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The Supernatural characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW, not me. No money is being made from this story. It is for entertainment only.

Beyond Belief

Chapter 1

In the Beginning

"I don't know what's wrong with him Bobby." Sam yelled. "He just started screaming and now he won't stop. Come on!"

Sam Winchester had galloped into Bobby's Singer's house without warning, slamming the door open, ignoring all of Bobby's wards and bellowing Bobby's name.

The old Hunter had pelted out of the study, shotgun gripped tightly in his hand. He was responding more to the mere noise than trying to figure out what was being said. As he lumbered into the hallway he was shocked to find Sam Winchester standing there with the front door wide open behind him. The young man appeared to be highly agitated; perhaps even in a state of shock. He was pale, sweating and almost dancing with anxiety.

"What the hell, Sam? I could have shot your ass, busting into my house like that." Bobby barked out. "What's wrong with you?"

Sam grabbed Bobby's arm and started pulling him out the door. "Come on, Bobby." he begged. "it's Dean. Something's really wrong with Dean. Come on. He needs help. You got to help him; I don't know what to do."

With that Sam dropped Bobby's arm and ran back out the door.

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Dean Winchester lay in the back seat of the Impala, covered by the ratty red checked car blanket he always kept on the floor behind the driver's seat. Sam had wrapped it around his brother as well as he could when he put Dean in the car after his brother had dropped to his knees in the snow in Sica Hallow State Park and began to moan and paw at his back.

"Sam, Sammy, make it stop. Sam, help me." Dean had whimpered and Sam had reacted. When he put his arm around his brother and tried to pull Dean up off the wet ground something had moved under his forearm. Sam had jerked his arm off Dean's back as if it had been burned.

"What in God's name, Dean?" Sam yelped, drowning out Dean's whimpers for a moment. Sam pulled off Dean's leather jacket and was stunned as the back of his brother's flannel shirt jumped and danced.

Sam thought for an instant that something had fallen inside Dean's shirt and he stripped off his brother's flannel and T-shirt. Once Dean's naked back was exposed it had not helped. There was nothing to catch, no way to rescue Dean from the attack. Whatever it was it was under Dean's skin. The man's back was writhing and churning. There was definitely something under his skin.

"Help me, Sam," Dean demanded again. Now not only was his back writhing, he was shaking from the cold standing there half naked. Sam threw the flannel loosely over Dean's back, loaded his brother over his shoulder and fled to the Impala parked beside the road. Sam laid his brother on his stomach on the back seat, grabbed a blanket from the floor of the car and flung it over Dean.

Now the blanket was moving and Dean was still moaning but at least Sam didn't have to look at Dean's unnaturally heaving back. Sam had no idea how to deal with this problem. His first thought was possession and he chanted the Catholic Exorcism as he climbed into the driver's seat and roared out of the Park.

Adjuro te, serpens antíque, per júdicem vivórum et mortuórum, per factórem tuum, per factórem mundi, per eum, qui habet potestátem mitténdi te in gehénnam, …Sam droned and Dean's moaning moderated. If nothing else happened his voice at least seemed to be soothing his brother's pain. If it stopped Dean's cries Sam decided he'd chant all the way to Sioux Falls.

Dean was still whimpering and muttering but more quietly. He seemed to know where he was and that Sam was with him but that was about all that Sam could make out. Sam's only thought was Bobby. Getting to Bobby's house was normally about a peaceful three hour drive out of Sisseton but Sam wasn't planning either normal or peaceful.

The Hunter rammed his foot on the gas pedal and lit out like his ass was on fire.

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The tall, thin blonde man pulled the hassock closer to the couch with the heel of his sock covered foot. He was spending a rare evening at home, alone with a bottle of beer and some ridiculous American sit-coms.

He stood and walked to the window with his beer in his band. Flicking the blind up, he stared out over the bleak snow covered city scape. So very much was strange here, he thought. He was in New Jersey instead of Sydney. It was Christmas and it was freezing out. Christmas had always been the big summer holiday in Australia; the start of the hottest summer months. He had seen it hit 37 Centigrade on New Year's Day, the equivalent of a hundred degrees Fahrenheit. This frozen Holiday wasn't his Holiday. It felt all wrong.

He took another hit off the beer all the while staring out at the frozen landscape. How could anyone get into the Christmas spirit while dealing with this icy mess?

It was a waste of time sitting in the apartment watching crappy old Christmas shows, he thought. He might as well go into work. Even there though were Christmas trees covered with phony snow, tinsel garlands and twinkling lights. There was no escape from all the good cheer unless he went and hung out with Dr. House. He was pretty sure there wouldn't be any Christmas decorations in House's office.

A rustling noise broke his concentration and he turned around. Much to his surprise and shock there was a strange man sitting on his couch, staring at his T.V. The man was still, his hands hanging between his open knees. He was silent and relaxed, as if he had been staring at the T.V. for hours.

"What the bloody hell?" Chase exclaimed. "Who are you? How did you get in here?" He quickly glanced at the front door. It was closed. He glanced back at the man on the couch. He didn't really look like a thief. He looked like a normal man you might pass in the street; normal height, dark suit, white shirt and a tan trench coat. The man's tie was flipped over, like it had been twisted by the wind. Chase's hands almost itched to straighten it out.

The strange man looked up. "Dr. Robert Chase, I assume?" Chase was impaled by the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. They almost seemed to glow.

"Well I'm sure as hell not Stanley and I don't think you are Livingston either.'" Chase felt all kinds of cheesy using the old line. He had no idea why he said it unless it was an effect of watching old movies late last night. The strange dark haired man stared at Chase in confusion. Maybe hoary old jokes weren't the way to go with this guy.

"We both seem to know who I am," Chase snapped out. "I'm glad you know whose apartment you've broken into. The question is who are you?"

"Please Dr. Chase," the man said. "I have traveled very far to find you. We need to talk."

"You need to get the hell out of my living room before I call the police, is what you need to do," Chase lunged for his landline which was sitting on the table at the end of the couch.

The strange man put up a hand, palm outward and Chose froze in place, unable to move forward. It was as if the air had become a solid immovable object. He was close to panicking but he clamped down and regained his control. Taking a deep breath he started breathing normally again.

"Please, do not be disturbed." The stranger said, leaning forward to get closer to Chase's face. "I am not here to harm you. I bring you a message. It is of great importance that you listen to me."

The man closed his palm and Chase could move again. "Please Doctor, sit down. A man is suffering in great pain and every moment we waste he could be drawing closer to death."

Chase sat down and carefully placed his beer on the table in front of him. His hands were shaking. "Take him to a hospital." Chase said and then turned to look at the man sitting beside him.

Whoever he was or whatever he was the man's eyes were outright unnatural. The color glowed in the dim apartment. Chase reached over and turned on the table lamp next to the phone.

"We fully intend to get him to a hospital." The man went on. "The only question is if it will be your hospital and if you are going to be his doctor. This man must not die. He has an important part to play not only for the Host of Heaven but also for your world."

Chase's mouth dropped open. "Run that by me again. The Host…you mean God and the Angels, that Host?"

"Yes, that Host." The strange man stood up. "I am Castiel, an Angel of the Lord. I believe you are a man of faith. Did you not at one time consider entering the Priesthood to serve God? I sincerely hope you are the right Dr. Chase. I cannot see how we could have made an error. Your history and current position is the reason we have chosen you."

Chase groaned inside. Great, an Annunciation, that was all he needed to make his life complete. Who couldn't use a touch of religious psychosis? He always knew that side trip through the seminary was going to come back and bite him in the ass one day. Well it looked like this was the day and the teeth were pretty damn large.

"Look, mate." Chase spoke up. "Or Mr. Castiel or the Angel Castiel or whatever you want to call yourself. You are seriously disturbed. I suggest that you get yourself to a hospital. I'll be glad to call you a cab. Hell, I'll even pay for it."

I assure you doctor," the man continued. "Neither myself nor my brothers are seriously disturbed." Blue Eyes turned and waved his hand at two more men in dark business suits who appeared out of empty space, "We are Angels."

There was a flash, possibly of lightening, in the room and for a moment Chase believed he saw wings at each man's back. He slumped back on the couch and closed his eyes, refusing to look again. Unfortunately however, there was no way he could close his ears and not hear that his apartment was full of the sound of rustling wings.